


And our Credo

by LanntheQueen



Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, The Addams Family (Movies)
Genre: Delusions, F/M, Grief, M rated for adult themes, Motherhood, Obsession, Wednesday and Pugsley aren't really characters in this, like guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LanntheQueen/pseuds/LanntheQueen
Summary: To the outside world, the Addams clan have always been seen as monsters and brutes - much to their delight. However, what happens when a true monster in every sense of the word lurks by, setting their sites on the new Addams matriarch, sending the family spiralling into a literal nightmare.When delusions begat by jealousy and resentment begin to fester, how far would one man go to turn his sick fantasy into a reality?This is the complete rewrite of a story I posted on here months ago.
Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. So this story is gonna explore some darker themes for Gomez and Morticia. So hopefully I do it justice and you guys enjoy. If you're interested, let me know what you think!
> 
> And shout out to my fabulous beta!

"Ah, I see my phantom wife has returned.”

Encased in a web of black satin, Morticia’s body twisted as she hobbled into their bedroom, still unused to the added weight she bared. That and the dramatic train of her nightgown she absolutely refused to part with, even for nine months.

A feeling of domesticity, not uncommon to her these past few years overtook her as she looked at Gomez, nestled into the sea of silk sheets and velvet pillows occupying their bed. The deep red of his night clothes made for a delicious contrast to his skin. Nursing a copy of The Raven with glasses perched on his nose, he never looked more handsome. 

Morticia smirked, offering up her only reply as she made her way to the grand windows, blatantly disregarding her husband's desire for her to join him. She felt his arms encircle hers, warm hands coming to rest protectively on the small, head-shaped bulge below her protruding navel.

“While I’m ordinarily delighted at the very idea of you with the babe,” he nuzzled her neck, “I would be lying if I said I didn’t prefer you spending your evenings with me, Tish,” he said, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

Barely suppressing a chuckle, Morticia reached behind to cup his cheek, letting her nails dig in slightly before guiding his lips to hers. She took a moment to relish in the blissful monotony of their reunion.

Like a true creature of the night, Morticia Addams would often be found wandering the graveyard and barren hallways during the late evenings, wishing for momentary solitude with her petit diable. She would spend hours conversing with him or her, pretending they could hear her. She frequently caught herself daydreaming of another pair of tiny hands and feet, while whispering sweet nothings and caressing her swollen belly. Upon returning to the house around midnight, she would find her husband lounging on their marriage bed pretending to be reading. An easy smile and quick-witted jab almost masking the fact that he had been waiting for her.

They stayed in their loving embrace for a few moments before Morticia pulled away.

“Have I been neglecting you, my love?'' she teased, voice taking on a suggestive lilt, “Is there something you desire of me?”

“Cara Mia,” he crooned into her ear before turning her around to face him. 

Morticia was momentarily stunned by the look of pure love in his clear brown eyes. Despite being together for nearly three years, it still surprised her the depths to which this man adored her. Made her feel like she meant anything in this cruel world. Arousing new sensations out of her every time she looked at his handsome face.

It frightened her, and she loved it.

She listened, transfixed as her husband went into another one of his frequent rhapsodies on how he loved her. How he would die and kill for her. It made her shiver with delight. However, her aching body alerted her to the fact that sex was the last thing on her mind at this moment.

With a vermilion nail to soft pink lips, she politely stopped his words before she jumped him.  
“What I desire most right now, is the sound of your heartbeat,” she whispered. Long lashes fluttered, conveying a hint of softness she rarely displayed.

Gomez grinned, leaping to switch off the lights before scooping her up and laying on their bed.

“Goodnight, querida,” he whispered into the darkness, pulling her as close as possible, letting his hands stroke her belly to soothe their little bat.

“Goodnight, darling,” she mumbled, letting the rhythmic thumping of his heart lull her to sleep.

* * *

Something was not right.

A voice whispered, panic oozed from its words, seeping into her mind. Her body shook from the inside out as the voice desperately tried to coax her out from her sweet nightmare of Gomez and the babe and Wednesday.

Wednesday. Oh her sullen baby girl. Born with a perpetual scowl marring her features, she almost never cried, rather content to stare unflinchingly at everything around her. Seemingly aware of what was going on.  
Her firstborn was so young and sweet. So pale and quiet, with large dark eyes, a slim nose and rosy lips, she looked like a possessed porcelain doll. She was perfect.

Like a mantra, the voice whispered to her that something was not right in her world. Each repetition rose in decibel until it screamed out. Hoarse from exhaustion, it contaminated her nightmare successfully.

Something was wrong with Wednesday.

A sudden rush of air invaded Morticia’s lungs as she was violently brought back into the world of the living.

Her body, foreign to the concept of sudden rushed movements, shifted in her husband's arms as dark brown eyes opened. To a stranger, it would seem as if she were a cadaver being revived. Gooseflesh puckered on her arms as her heart thumped in her chest like a warning toll. Morticia’s eyes adjusted in the black of the night, listening to her own heartbeat steady itself. Truly common sense would prevail and alert her to the fact that it was just an unpleasant nightmare. However, her exhausted body seemed to be lacking it as it rose on its own accord.

She briefly toyed with the idea of waking Gomez, before realizing how silly it would be to deny him rest because of one silly dream.  
Slowly untangling his arms from around her, she slipped out of bed, before drifting into the darkness. She just needed to see her daughter.  
……...

The floorboards groaned against her slipper clad feet, echo bouncing across the halls, giving the illusion as if it were the sound of a tormented spirit. It protested greatly its disturbance as Morticia followed the familiar steps to the nursery. The light of the candelabras danced across the halls, casting large picture frames in monstrous shadows, all giving her looks of curious scrutiny.

Her subconscious whispered to her, spurring her on even as her mind admonished her for her stupidity for leaving her husband's embrace just to wake the baby. Motherly instinct was not a truly foreign concept to Morticia. Despise being the younger of two, she often found herself taking care of her older sister. Drying her tears and peeling the gum off her hair when the other children had been especially cruel to her and their parents were nowhere to be seen. However, Ophelia was not Wednesday. And so after a year and a half, she still often found herself filled with uncertainty as to how to tailor her instincts properly to her own daughter. Subconsciously stroking her belly, she knew she had to learn fast.

Morticia’s fingers grazed the cold handle of the nursery door, opening it slowly before closing it behind her as so as to not create any unnecessary noise.

The nursery was large and dark but mostly barren, the only furniture was a single crib at the centre of the room, a wooden rocking chair next to the wall, a chaise lounge chair and the wardrobe over to the corner. Morose depictions of the brutal reality of the world on the wallpaper contrasted beautifully with the sheep wool carpeting. A single window adjacent to the door provided the only source of light in the room. 

For once, Morticia’s face betrayed her emotions through her voice delayed itself as her feet propelled her to the crib. Her hand shakily touched her baby's blanket. Horror stabbed her, as the light of the moon confirmed that the reflection in her eyes was true. She was staring into an empty crib. 

Where was Wednesday? 

A feeling of overwhelming panic threatened to overtake her. Where was her baby? 

“Morticia, my love.”

The voice startled her. First believing it to be her subconscious, until she became aware of the fact that someone was breathing loudly behind her. The darkness helped to conceal the figure hidden next to the wardrobe, but the outline of him began to form, and in his arms, he held her slumbering child.

Morticia’s mind screamed at her to do something. Anything at all but her vocal cords refused to comply as she stood frozen. Wide eyes staring at the shadow of the man's face staring back at her.

“It has been too long,” he whispered, gloved hands reaching out to touch her.

Somehow, that seemed to spur her on. As if her briefly thinking her child was missing, only to find her kidnapper in the room with her wasn’t quite enough, the softest gesture of finely crafted leather gloves grazing across her cheek seemed to ignite her vocal cords. She would have laughed if she wasn't currently screaming.

Wednesday woke up, frightened, and offered the house a chance to hear one of her rare cries just as the man reared back. He went to grab her arm but Morticia sidestepped, reaching out to pull her child to her. He pushed her back, causing her to almost lose her balance. She swiped at him, nails tearing through black fabric and breaking skin as she let out a most guttural growl. Unfortunately, she knew she was very ill-equipped for fighting in her thin nightgown, swollen belly providing a vulnerability to her. With one hard kick, the man sent her flying three feet away. Instincts told her to hold her belly as tightly to absorb as much shock as possible to save her child, thankfully she landed on her back. 

The sound of her family running through the house provided a cruel symphony as she watched helplessly as the man jumped out the window, carrying a still crying Wednesday with him.

Tears blurred her vision, barely registering the sound of the door bursting behind her and her Gomez crouching to pull her into his lap. All the sound left the room until it was just Morticia, sobbing on the floor, her brain struggling with the realization that she just witnessed quite literally a mother's worst fear.

……

Oh wow. 

He expertly maneuvered his body, carefully adjusting the child as he landed on a particularly sturdy tree branch. Thankfully the fall seemed to have stopped her screams, for her eyes started to drift close. He could hear the faint sound of crying in the background. It crushed him to know that he could not get her too, but he would come back. He moved in the darkness, trying not to make a sound as he took an improvised route back out the estate and to his car. 

His mind would replay their reunion for years to come. She looked so beautiful bathed in the moonlight. So ethereal, just like he remembered her. Beautiful but so scared. His poor darling. His heart broke for her as he recalled her appearing as if she didn't even recognize him. 

He wanted to grab her and pull her into his arms when he saw the state of her. Those sick bastards not only took her from him, took his own child, but forced- he had to take a breath because he was getting too heated. 

Of course, he already knew what Gomez Addams did to her. But seeing her pregnant form up close for once filled him with such rage. He refused to even entertain the thought of what they may be doing to her now.

“My darling Morticia, I am so sorry. Soon I will break you free.” he rasped. Voice slightly winded from running through the thick forest surrounding the estate. 

He couldn't wait to have her in his arms again.

But for now, he focused on their miracle baby sleeping in his arms. He knew he would never forgive himself if he didn’t at least save their daughter first. The poor baby cried so much for him, wearing herself out to exhaustion again. 

Knowing they would send that lumbering beast after him, he picked up his pace, reaching to the edge of the estate and burrowing through the makeshift tunnel he constructed himself before sprinting half a mile to his car.

Once little Omirosa was safely tucked in the back seat, he started the car and drove off. Promising that he would come back for his beloved. 

Finally, he would get his family back.


	2. Chapter 2

It was truly prodigious, the negative thoughts a brain could produce from limited knowledge.  
When the sound of his wife’s scream ripped him from his sleep, his mind instantly began to conjure up the most gruesome of sights.  
Their child blue faced in her crib, tinges of red peeking out from unblinking eyes. Morticia laying in a pool of blood, the onset of rot invading her perfect features. Truly it was astounding.

He ignored the burning in his chest as he sprinted down the long, winding hall to the nursery, barely registering Lurch, Mama and Thing on his tail. The agonizing sounds she made seemed to echo off the walls. Tormenting him, teasing him as if to say he was too late.

Gomez yanked the door open, almost ripping it from its hinges. Light from the hall flooded into the room, painting a harrowing sight.

The opened window. 

The empty crib. 

His wife’s trembling form on the ground. 

No sooner had his instincts taken him to Morticia's side, he became instantly aware of Wednesday’s absence. His senses seemed razor sharp, though his sleep addled brain struggled to fully comprehend the situation.

Lifting her, perhaps not as gently as he’d hoped, he took her weight into his lap. Mama followed, grabbing a stray blanket and wrapping it around her daughter-in-law's body.

“Morticia, my darling are you okay?” She was inconsolable, clinging to him in desperation. Her entire body shook, skin flushed and hot to the touch. He held her tear stained face, eyes searching for any obvious injury.

“Morticia, what happened?” He implored. In his panicked state, his grip tightened, forcing her to look at him as she started to collapse in his arms, “Where is Wednesday?”

Mama tried to admonish him for being so rough, but it fell on deaf ears. He would curse himself later.

Morticia leaned forward, one hand flying to her chest, the other holding his hand tightly, nails tearing into his flesh as she fought to catch her breath. 

“He-he took her,” she coughed out.

“Lurch!” He bawled, not even looking at them but the butler reacted immediately, groaning in affirmation before promptly leaving with Thing following.

Gomez was absolutely horrified. But also frustrated beyond belief. Who took her? Who is this he. He wanted to scream it, but the words died before even reaching his tongue. As panicked as he was, he could never shout at his wife, especially not in this condition. He had never seen her in such a state ever before. And it distressed him to know that he had no true way of comforting her. 

“Cara Mia, please breathe,” He begged. Morticia was so delicate, her body was not meant to expel so much energy. Gomez reached to peel back the hairs that clung to her cheek, suddenly becoming acutely aware of the danger their baby might be in. Mama rubbed her back soothingly, whispering words of comfort into her ear. 

Suddenly, without an ounce of warning, Morticia’s body went limp and she slumped over in his arms.

“Mama, call an ambulance!” He screamed, barely turning to watch his mother scamper out the room before turning back to his beloved. He held her close to him, leaning his head to thankfully still hear her breathing. As shallow as it was.

Stroking her hair, he slowly maneuvered her body to lay in his arms, “Shh, it's going to be okay Tish, we are going to get Wednesday back. Just breathe. Please. For our children,” he whispered, stroking her belly in an effort to soothe her and their baby. He pressed a kiss to her closed eyelids before reaching to wipe her face.

He held her for a few moments more, listening to her heartbeat slowly steady itself before picking her up in his arms and exiting the room.

* * *

Stepping out into the stillness of the night, Gomez observed his sleeping bride in his arms. Streaks of blossom stained the edges of her eyes and nose, interrupting the normally immaculate porcelain of her face. Even unconscious, her face contained remnants of pain, expression twisted up in despair as if she were reliving this night in her dreams. His only comfort came from monitoring the steady rise and fall of her chest, and the kicking in her stomach, grateful that he had not failed both of his children. 

It was frightening to see his wife in this state. It made him feel even weaker than he was. If his Morticia, normally so calm and stoic, whose unyielding composure could chill Hell itself could succumb to a panic attack, then who was he to even attempt any semblance of self control in a situation like this?

The distant sound of the ambulance's blare cut through the silence of the night, successfully snuffing out the dark thoughts plaguing his mind. The welcoming arrival of the ambulance was accompanied by the vague outline of Lurch and Thing lumbering back ahead of it. All at once, a sudden feeling of hope swelled in his chest, making him almost giddy with relief.   
Positively vibrating, he turned to kiss his wife’s face.

As quickly as it came, the hope died a whimpering death in the pit of his stomach. Bathed in a sea of red and blue flashing lights, Gomez could just make out the form of Lurch and Thing slowly making their way back. Empty handed.

If he wasn't currently holding his beloved, he was sure he would have collapsed, or ran fruitlessly after the assailant before collapsing. Wednesday was missing. His own child gone right from under him. Without a trace. His heart quite literally ached in his chest, a sudden feeling of loss overtaking him. He could not stop the sob that retched from his throat, punctuating into the air as tears burned in the back of his eyes. 

He could not believe he failed her.

“Gomez.”

His bloodshot eyes turned to his Mother standing behind him. She gave him a most tender look, a look that made him want to regress back into a boy. She reached up to give him a sideways hug, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He wanted to cry, to hold his mother and sob into her bosom. But he couldn't allow himself to do that. Not now. To fail the women in his life like this. He had to save their daughter and take care of his wife. 

“Mama, go to the vault and get contacts for the case. Also, get Thing to help pack a bag for Morticia and meet us at the hospital.” 

Mama nodded understandingly. Turning back to the house to do as she was told just as Gate opened for the ambulance.

“Gomez, wait, we need to call the police!” Mama turned back.

Gomez stopped in his tracks, a look of absolute disgust flashed across his face for even daring to suggest that. 

Gomez Addams was normally a fairly understanding man. Usually willing to forgive and forget in most cases. He understood that this outlook may make him come across as naive, but he was never one to harbour negative thoughts over anyone for his own health. 

Unless that person, or organization in this instance, committed an injustice against his family. 

He would never forgive them for their inactions and gross misconduct they displayed towards him. Despite it being fifteen years ago, he could still remember clearly the expressions on their faces, the scornful looks hidden behind fake smiles. Even as their sneers turned to ashes, snickers turned to sobs as the flames licked their tears away that very night. Despite being only 16, he knew only a demon could laugh in the face of a missing person, so he sent them back to the hell they came from.

To be frank, the police repulsed him.

Turning slightly, Gomez gave his Mama a pointed glare, “No. You know who to call,” he stated before turning on his heels.

“What happened exactly, sir?” said one of the medics at the other came running with the stretcher.

Gomez gently rested Morticia on the stretcher, watching as they buckled her in and fitted her with an oxygen mask and a sphygmomanometer, “I am not sure exactly. I think the stress of pregnancy caused her to have a panic attack,” he lied.

“Well her blood pressure is really low,” replied the other medic “We need to take her to the hospital.”

Gomez held Morticia’s hand, reveling in the beat of her pulse in her wrist as they wheeled back to the truck and loaded her up. He climbed right in next to her and kissed her fingers as they slammed the door behind him and drove off.

* * *

Gomez sat trapped alone with his thoughts. What he had hoped to be a quick checkup spiralled into hours of dread, waiting for the doctors to return with news of his wife and child's health. His nerves were frayed, hoping beyond belief that they were safe.

He had just gotten off the phone with his contacts, beyond relieved they had the resources to help and were on their way to the house. Mama and Thing had arrived earlier but he sent them back. He wanted as many people investigating and gathering evidence as possible.

Speaking of investigating, Gomez scoffed, as he recalled what Mama had told him earlier. He would rather die a thousand torturous deaths than to ever ask, or accept help from those fiends.  
Although a small part of him acknowledged that perhaps he was not entirely accurate in despising all police officers. He was sure some of them were halfway decent. And perhaps if he had visited another police station the morning his brother went missing he would have maintained a respect for them. But the bastards at the 11th precinct left a mark on him, left him still jaded even all these years later. The way they refused to launch an investigation, despite Fester still being a minor at the time. The way they laughed and joked about Fester probably returning to planet Mars when they thought he was not listening. Even as he went to his knees and begged them to look into his disappearance, they threw him out. Now his brother was lost forever. He could not let that happen again. Not to his daughter. He would not recover this time.

Oh Wednesday. His heart broke for her. He couldn’t imagine how shared she must be right now, separated from her family, in the grasp of some sick stranger. It killed him to not even have a semblance of evidence as to where she could be. Who took her? And why?

God, he could not wait to have her in his arms again.

Rage suddenly bubbled forth inside him at that moment, Castilian fire causing his blood to boil over. He cursed that man for what he did. For invading their home and taking his child, For threatening the safety of not only his wife and unborn baby, but of the rest of his family as well.

It did not matter if the man was a family friend, an associate or even his neighbour. Either way, when he gets his hand on him, he will kill him. Only blood could repay his crimes.

“Mr Addams.”

Gomez whipped his head around to the sound of the nurses' voice. 

“Yes that is me,” he practically vaulted to her side, startling her, “Is my wife and child alright?” 

“Your wife is going to be just fine, Mr Addams. However,” she continued, not missing a beat, “Unfortunately, because her blood sugar was so abnormally low, for the sake of your baby, the doctors thought it best to perform an emergency C section.”

“What!” he bellowed. 

“Please don't be alarmed Mr Addams, your son is not in any danger,” she reassured swiftly, “Both mother and child are currently asleep, but you are welcome to see her. The doctors will speak to you both later when your wife wakes up.”

He wanted to collapse from relief. His wife and son were safe. He had a son now. Briefly abandoning all manner of societal proprietary, he embraced this stranger, elated that something good managed to come out of this awful night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay Wow. Did I mean to take over two weeks between updates? Hell no. Super sorry for that guys.

_Morticia watched, mesmerized at the babe feeding at her breast. At his pale skin, adorned with tufts of light brown hair glimmering in the moonlight. At his large eyes, as dark as their fathers’ shifting from her face to stare at the clouded sky.  
The wind rustled the barren trees surrounding them, producing hauntingly melodious sounds. _

_Oh, how her darling husband loved spoiling her. Gathering up his wife and children on such a gloriously gloomy night for a picnic in the cemetery. It was wonderful._

_With a wet pop, the babe released her and almost immediately fell asleep. Shifting, Morticia drew in the comforting scent of rot mixed with dew. She hadn't felt so relaxed in months._

_“Darling,” she breathed, “Come sit next to Mother.” She had felt a presence lurking behind her for minutes now._

_Morticia listened as tiny feet stomped across dead grass before Wednesday appeared. Settling - almost too gracefully for a toddler, onto the mulberry blanket, she fixed her mother with a blank stare. Debris clung to her ruffled ebony dress, staining the once crisp white of her collar. Her braids, which usually contained her growing whisps, stuck out like horns on top of her head._

_A hint of a smile pulled at Morticia’s lips, “Someone had a lovely time playing wake the dead with their father,” she cooed, producing a handkerchief. Reaching out, she went to wipe the grass stain off her plump cheeks._

_Her fingers nearly burned as they came into contact with icy skin. Morticia flinched slightly, before gathering Wednesday into her free arm, she was freezing. She suddenly became aware of the babe’s lowering temperature in her other arm._

_“Gomez,” she called out into the darkness._

_“Yes, darling?” Gomez replied, appearing next to her._

_“Perhaps we should begin to pack, the children seem to be running a cold,” the slight twitch of her fingertips across her daughter's brow was the only thing conveying her growing concern._

_Suddenly unannounced, rain burst from the clouds, cascading down onto the couple. But it was no ordinary rain. Morticia audibly shrieked as the droplets felt like razor-sharp pins piercing her skin._

_“Go Morticia!” She heard Gomez shout._

_Morticia gathered up the children in the blanket, already slick with her own blood, as she tried to run to the hearse. Red tinged her vision as she fought through the torture of thousands of needles raining down onto her skin. As if turned to marble, the children began to weigh heavily in her arms, dragging her down in the process. In her distraction, she failed to notice a rogue protruding headstone until it was too late._

_She heard the stomach-turning crack under her before anything else. Rising to her knees, she shakily lifted the bloody blanket to find millions of shards of glass staining the grass._

_“Tish…”_

_She turned, horrified to see Gomez. His skin was littered with tiny cracks. He gave her an unreadable expression before shattering right before her, leaving her utterly alone in her agony._

* * *

The light blinded her. 

The room gave off a pungent odour of lemon. Cleaning agents attempting to mask its natural scent, no doubt. It was too sterile. The rhythmic beeps and buzzing tugged at her consciousness until Morticia was coherent enough to move her head. All she could see was white. The fluorescent bulbs, the walls, her gown. Briefly, she wondered if she perished until the memories of a few hours ago rushed back. 

Her Wednesday was gone.

Heart and body throbbed, unused to conveying so many emotions in such a short period of time. Or ever. She felt light, almost too light as if something else was taken from her. She looked down and nearly paled. There it was. An empty space where life once grew.

As if the Gods hadn’t punished her enough, her other child was gone too. She had to wonder if they enjoyed toying with her. To finally grant her joy, only to seize it bit by bit. She didn’t even realise she was sobbing until a gaggle of people rushed into the room.

Despite the chaos, Morticia instantly recognized her husband rushing to the seat beside her bed.

“Morticia, my darling it’s okay,” he soothed, bringing her hand on his lips. 

She focused on his tender touch through her hair and his mouth at her ear, nearly forgetting the nurse and doctor flocking around her until the sound of her own voice fell silent and the violent beeps retained their rhythmic intervals.

She waited patiently as most of the people left the room. Leaving her only with Gomez and whom she presumed was her doctor.

“Where am I?” she asked, voice hoarse from disuse. “What happened to my baby?”  
Of course, she already suspected, but a bit of confirmation would be adequate.

“Good Morning Mr. and Mrs. Addams,” the older woman replied. “You are at St Mary’s Hospital in Westfield, New Jersey, and your child is safe in the nursery.”

The doctor turned, addressing Gomez, “I am Doctor McBride. I worked on your wife's  
C-section,” she introduced, shaking his hand.

“Doctor McBride, please, I was told something was wrong with my wife’s blood pressure?” 

“Yes. This is partially what I wanted to speak to both of you about today,” the doctor took off her glasses before taking a seat on the adjacent chair. “You see Mrs. Addams, when you were admitted last night, your blood sugar level dropped concerningly low. We feared if it dropped lower, it would affect the baby, so we thought it best to deliver via caesarean section in order to relieve the stress of both you and the child.”

Morticia sat, stone-faced listening to the doctor. Hoping beyond hope that the pounding of her heart could not be heard. As if sensing her distress, Gomez took her hand under the sheet, successfully preventing her from clawing at her herself with nerves.

“And is my baby alright, Doctor?” she whispered. 

“Mrs Addams, your son is doing exceptionally well. No major issues aside from him being slightly underweight. However, I am prescribing him some special formula to help with that.” 

Reaching into her folder, she produced a notepad, jutting down the information, “You can buy this formula in any local Grocery. He has to take this every time he feeds for the next 7 days and he will be at optimum weight.”

Morticia let out a breath, warmth rushing over her for the first time in what seemed like ages. Beside her, she heard Gomez’s cry of delight, voicing her thoughts before pulling her into an intensely emotional kiss. She pulled away, bringing their foreheads together. The tenderness of his eyes as it spoke to her, conveying a thousand words in one almost managed to diffuse her anxiety. However, she could never be truly content until she got all of her answers. 

Morticia turned back to face the doctor, anticipating the conversation she was to have with Gomez with equal part eagerness and fear, “Thank you so much doctor,” she replied.

“You are welcome. However it is not your son I am concerned about, it’s you.”

That loaded statement was a blow to her healing psyche, fingers tightening in her husband's grasp, she could almost feel the tremble of his voice at his bewildered exclamation.

“Yes,” the Doctor continued, “As I said earlier, at the time of your arrival, your blood sugar was very low. We had hoped that with rest it would have risen by now, however, it is still below normal. We would like to keep you here until the end of the week just to ensure you are well.”

“Pardon?”

Oh, what a brutal jolt of reality. Of course her moment of reprise wouldn't come without some manner of consequence. Not only was her daughter missing, ripped from her own gasp, but now she would be deprived of her son for several long, arduous days. If she were capable of such theatrics in her fully conscious state, she was sure she would have screamed in frustration. 

Her body went rigid, shoulders back with hands clasped on her lap, wound tight with fury. In her nearly catatonic state, she chose to simply stand witness to the battle before her. Gomez’s scathing pleas for her discharge seemed to melt off of the Doctor. Her mind was made up. In another situation, she could respect the Doctor, if she wasn't the subject of her loathing.

A twinge of irritation fought for dominance inside of her, suddenly growing upset at the very thought of vulnerability in front of this stranger. Pain stabbed through her as she attempted to sit up.

Ever the doting husband, Gomez was quick to stop her, “Querida no, you have to rest,” he admonished gently, easing her back to the bed. 

She was almost resentful of her husband's ability to switch his emotions out on a whim. How he could go from enraged to concerned in so little time was beyond her understanding. However, now was not the time for those musings. So following a particularly withering stare directed at him, she regarded the Doctor before asking,

“Please, may we see him?”

* * *

She decided it was worth it. 

The helplessness. The pitying looks. The damned infernal squeaking of the chair’s wheels. It was all worth it the second her son was deposited into her arms.

He looked almost nothing like she imagined. Of course, she knew his features would twist and contort with time, however the darkened rims of his eyes, along with his pallid bald head contrasted greatly with her husband's fine Castilian features and even her sharp Frump genes. From the sound of Gomez’s quiet gasp, she knew he too saw the striking resemblance to another Addams man. He was perfect.

During those blissful yet mercilessly brief hours, when it was just her son and husband, she tried to slip into a fantasy. To pretend that her world was not engulfed in flames and she was near her breaking point. To act as if Wednesday was still asleep at home and she would see her soon.

To be dreadfully honest, it was torturous. The tension in the air grew thick, full of unshed tears and unspoken words. But still, she bided her time, choosing instead to simply observe Gomez near the windows, gently rocking their son. And when he fell to sleep and was placed in the cot next to her bed, she knew it was time for their talk.

“Have you decided on a name?” She asked and cursed herself internally for her ineffectiveness.

The slight quirk of his brow told her he knew well enough that wasn’t what she meant to ask. Still, Gomez slumped into the adjacent chair, choosing to indulge her.

“Truthfully, the prospect of naming him nearly escaped me,” he confessed, conveying a degree of sluggishness quite untypical, yet sadly apt in this circumstance. 

"I was thinking of Dracul, Pugsley or Lucifer, “ she was determined to let this conversation reach its natural conclusion so that they may finally address the elephant in the room. “Perhaps Phobus?" 

"I like Pugsley," he supplemented.

"Then Pugsley it shall be," she smiled.

And then the conversation died a much-needed death. Not that her son's name had little importance.

“Gomez, what of Wednesday?” she urged.

She watched Gomez suck in a breath, back straightening. Casting a conspiratorial look at the closed door, he leaned in and whispered, “I had Mama call some contacts. Private investigators if you will. They should be arriving at the house at this moment.” 

And with that simple statement-one that she’d been anticipating for hours no doubt, her illusion was fully shattered. It was impossible now to feign some form of aggressive fever dream. Her daughter was missing, and she could do nothing to help. His attempt at a reassuring smile did almost nothing for her, and he must have known that because his face too fell, his body going rigid in the process. Eyes drifting, his expression changed from troubled, sorrow, to anger, to something almost unreadable even to her. 

“Gomez,” she whispered, reaching to touch his shoulder.

Truthfully, the last thing she expected him to do was grab her other wrist, tugging her into his chest. She nearly yelped in surprise, tempering the response to avoid disturbing Pugsley. Before she could question his brief bout of insanity, he pulled her into a searing kiss, effectively knocking the wind out of her. Gomez moved to grip the back of her head with his free hand, locking her into place, while she clawed at his shirt, suddenly desperate to be as near to him as possible. As quickly as it started, Gomez abruptly broke the kiss, bringing them together, not dissimilar to their earlier embrace.

“Tish, seeing you like that-” His voice hitched.

“I know darling,” she soothed, reaching between them to run a finger across his quivering chin.

“I-I had no idea what was happening, all I saw was you on the floor and the windows open-”

She shushed him gently by pulling him closer, allowing him to bury his head into her neck. His body shook slightly under her, breath coming out ragged against her skin. They stayed like this for a few moments before Gomez abruptly broke away. She was almost shocked to not see the familiar tear tracks lining his face.

“I won’t insult you by asking if you’re okay, I know you’re not,” he whispered, “But please tell me, what do you feel at this moment?”

Morticia reared back slightly, taking a moment to ponder the question. At first glance it should be quite obvious; anger, pain, frustration. Anything in that vein would have sufficed. However it would be foolish of her to deny the vile presence coiling inside of her. Abandoned and left to die a lifetime ago, it began to feed on the absolute dread pulsating off of her the very moment she saw Wednesday’s empty crib, growing exponentially in just a few short hours.

“Defeated.”

He nodded slightly, pressing her fingers to his lips, “I will forever regret that I could not be there sooner, but I promise you I will find out who did this. And I will get Wednesday back.”

She believed him. Of course she would never doubt her husband, he had never lied to her before. It certainly helped to not consider the alternative. What would she really do if her Wednesday were to disappear forever. She tried to perish those thoughts, choosing instead to acknowledge her husband's declaration with a simple nod.

“Tish, please I need to know what happened.” 

And so she told him what she remembered, which is to say, not much. Of course, it was too dark to make out the man’s face, and her ensuing emotional breakdown caused her to have lapses in memory, which frustrated her beyond belief. 

“The man jumped out the window just as you arrived,” she finished.

“Alright,” replied Gomez. She could feel the rage pulsating off of him, “Is that all?”

“There is one more thing of note. The way he looked at me through his mask was the most peculiar thing. It was as if he knew me but I have no recollection of him.”

He nodded, brows creasing in contemplation for a few moments. As quickly as it appeared, it seemed to dissipate. His large eyes widened, red and glassy but still he did not allow his tears to fall.

“I have to leave cara,” he whispered softly.

“I know,” she sighed, allowing him to pull her into his chest. 

“It pains me to leave you here with these people, to not have you by my side through this. But you know I tried my damndest to let that doctor see reason... ”

“I know, darling,” the tenderness in his eyes as he spoke to her made her want to sob.

“So I am leaving Lurch here with you.”

Perhaps Lurch could indeed fill the gaps of these long arduous days she was forced to endure, but not by much. There was no need to even voice these thoughts because he knew it too. So in reply, she took her husband's face in her hands, a single nail tracing the outline of his pink lips. 

Gods she will miss him.

Nose to nose, they stared into each other's tormented souls before their lips joined for the last time for what seemed like an eternity. When the air became a necessity, he lifted her up, careful not to disturb the wires attached to her person, and slipped into the tiny bed, settling her onto his chest. Slowly they regressed back into their nightly ritual of sorts, his fingers tracing her belly through the thin fabric of her gown, while she listened to his heartbeat. 

“Gomez,” she whispered, breaking the stillness of the air, “Promise me that by the time I return home, I would have something to hope for.”

“I will make sure of it,” he kissed her hairline and once again, she believed him.

She let his words as well as the steady thumping of his heart lull her into a false sense of security. 

That was how Lurch found them only twenty minutes later, discharge paper in one hand and her luggage in the other.

Against her best efforts, she shed tears when it was time to say goodbye to her son. She held his sleeping form to her chest and inhaled the scent of his skin. Gomez took her free hand, kissing each of her fingers before pulling her into a final embrace. Reluctantly, she relinquished Pugsley to his father.

“Te veo pronto, cara mía,” he vowed.

“À la prochaine, mon cher,” she whispered.

And with that, he relinquished her hand, severing their connection before departing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all, I just wanna say that I had zero intentions of taking so long between updates. Sorry about that. Secondly, welcome back readers who stuck around and hello potential new readers :)

He tried to relax. He really did. Inhale. He rocked back and forth on the beaten chair and listened to the birds singing. Hold. He let the sun hit his face and the crisp breeze blow through his bronze strands. Exhale.

Yet nothing worked. A poor night’s rest was to blame.

He took a moment to watch as the winds caught the falling ash of his cigarette. Twisting and swaying to the song of the Thrush, it gleamed olive under the morning sun before disappearing behind the grove. It made him shift slightly in his seat and wince at the throb in his leg. Through gritted teeth, he flicked the useless nub away and lit another one. 

Inhale. He couldn’t believe his stupidity at getting himself hurt like this. Not at this time. Hold. He glanced at the bandaged wound and resisted the urge to cry out in frustration. He knew these woods like the back of his hand! Day in and day out he’d trudged through the density, yet last night he managed to trip over some rouge branch.

Thank God he’d caught Omirosa in time and she’d managed to stay asleep. 

He held the smoke in his lungs and his fingers began to twitch. It had to have been that decrepit Addams woman’s doing. Some kind of hex or spell she must have put on him. It made him sick with worry for his beloved. If they could affect him like this, then he couldn’t imagine what they were using their powers on her for. She had been so young when she was taken, barely a practicing witch too. He wondered if they had filled her head up with lies and forced her to practice in their cult.

He felt himself go lightheaded and exhaled the smoke. He rubbed his tired eyes but didn’t dare keep them closed for longer than necessary. He’d always had dreams of her. He was so used to it after all these years. Yet, when he tried to close his eyes last night, all he could see was that look of pure anguish marrying her beautiful features. Every time he saw the look on her face he had to suppress the urge to go back and destroy Gomez Addams for what he did to her. That sadistic man. 

He already had his daughter and he would not stop at that. So he waited instead.

The birds were beginning to become unbearable. He rose abruptly, nearly losing his balance in the process, and limped inside. With a slam of the door, the song of the Thrush and the creaking of the rocking chair became mute.

* * *

His body jolted forward, startled by the force of the noise. Wide-eyed, Gomez scrambled out of the worn leather seat and was greeted by Lurch. His old friend groaned questioningly, before lifting his massive arms to reveal a still sleeping Pugsley on his chest.

“Oh, thank gods,” Gomez sighed, wiping the perspiration off his brown,” What was that noise?”

Lurch made a low quizzical sound and shrugged his shoulders. Gomez arched a brow in response and slid back into the waiting room seat. 

Tapping his foot impatiently, Gomez ran a hand over his disheveled hair before reaching to check both of his watches.

He felt the harsh glare of the receptionist burning into the side of his head before he even realized he was reaching for his cigar, 

Gomez smiled ruefully, holding out his hands guiltily, “Sorry, Madam.” 

Another group of nurses came rushing past him, whispering loudly about some disturbance downstairs. The receptionist glared harder at him if it were possible.

“Sir, your mother is downstairs,” she said.

Lurch must have sensed his anxiety because he adjusted Pugsley in one arm and used the other to rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. Gomez rested his hand on the giant’s and offered a hollow smile instead. Slowly rising, Gomez made sure to grab Pugsley’s formula and tucked the envelope into his suit jacket.

Deftly avoiding the security cameras, Gomez slid the envelope across the desk, “Make sure your superiors know there is more where this comes from,” he murmured. The nurse hesitated, eyes flickering briefly to Lurch, before sliding it behind the desk.

“Don’t worry. He’s harmless.”

When they came to the metal doors, Gomez took a pause. His back tensed, his foot tapping against the floor as his mind churned, trying to find the right words.

Take care of her old man. 

Always keep your eyes open. 

Be safe. 

Gods. None of that felt right at all. Not to mention an insult to Lurch’s intelligence. 

As if sensing his strife, Lurch grunted, handing his baby over to him before placing his hand comfortingly on his shoulders again. Yes, that was enough. They stayed like this until the familiar ding of the elevator sounded. They didn’t bother with a hug nor anything more. Gomez stepped into the elevator and the door closed to Lurch’s retreating back.

* * *

She was the spitting image of her mother.

Dark hair, pale skin, even down to the curve of her brow in sleep reminded him of her. He couldn’t stop staring. His eyes softened and the pain lessened when she gave a tiny yawn and rolled over in her sleep. 

He wanted to inspect her. Make sure neither Gomez Addams nor any of his herd laid a hand on her. But he couldn’t bring himself to wake her. And part of him didn’t want to learn the truth right now. 

“Please, not inside. You’ll wake her.”

The figure behind him paused, clearly surprised but he paid him no mind. Gently, he tucked the wool blanket back under his daughter’s chin and kissed her forehead, marvelling at the icy touch.

He turned to meet the eyes of the figure in grey, “We have much to discuss,” he whispered before turning to limp back outside.

The figure growled slightly but followed him anyway. Ducking his head out into the sun, he crossed his arms and stared expectantly at him, “What happened to your leg?” he asked after a moment.

He chose to ignore the other man, lowering himself onto the chair. He brushed the sweat from off his brow and lit another cigarette, offering one to his guest. 

The other man shook his head at the offer, choosing instead to stand over him in some sort of display of dominance. 

“Please sit,” he snapped after a moment, “No need to be so rigid. We are partners-”

“We aren’t partners,” the other man stated flatly, “And this isn’t a business deal.”

He took a pause, surprised at the other man’s abrasive words. He had been so cordial to him over the phone, “And what would you call this?”

The other man rolled his eyes, “How about a barter? You know, I do a little something for you, you do a little something for me. We don’t gotta know too much of each other’s business, you know. And after we’re done, we walk away like it’s nothing.”

He took another draw, pondering this man in grey. As true as he was, this man was too cocky and selfish for his liking. Certainly not a team player either. But he had limited options at the moment. So instead of rolling his eyes at his insolence, he slowly lifted his injured leg onto the wooden table, “It got torn up last night. I was distracted trying to bring my daughter through the woods without waking her, tripped on a branch and it got torn on a rock.”

He observed the other man raise his brows in surprise and suppress a snort at the little story, “Daughter, huh? Is that what you and Addams are all worked up about?”

“No. He has my wife too,” he gestured for him to sit. Thankfully, he finally did on the old rocking chair.

“Right, I know. The old broad told me that part.”

“Wait, she did?” He never expected that Addams crone to go spreading information like that over the phone. Potential worker or not. Maybe this would be easier than he thought, “Did she mention anything about Morticia?”

His hold on the hand rest tightened when the other man shot him a smile.

“You know how this goes, piece first then I start talking,” he crossed his arm again, looking very much like a child.

He growled, resisting the urge to shoot this man, “I don’t even know your name. What if you take the half, give me false information and I never see you again?”

“Well, that’s just gonna be a risk you’ll have to take.” he shrugged.

He regarded this other man for another moment and wondered what it would feel like to crush his head between the door. However, the pain in his leg alerted him to the fact that his options truly were limited. He reached down awkwardly and pulled a white envelope from under the table and flung it at the other man. 

“Fifty upfront, just as I promised.”

He snatched the envelope up and quickly checked the amount. He grinned, exposing his youth as the faux hardness of his face gave way to milky, smooth skin and dark freckles that matched his hair.

“She’s at the hospital.”

“Which hospital?” he snapped. Fucking Addams must have moved her. Shit. Maybe he was smarter than he thought.

“She didn’t mention which one. “

He was beginning to get impatient, “Then try to find out which hospital Morticia is at!”

“Ha, are you crazy? I’m not as stupid you might think. The second they suspect me of snooping around where I’m not meant to, they’ll be all over me. I’m gonna do my job and whatever info I happen to come across or overhear I’ll let you know.”

He sighed but agreed. “What’s your name? You never gave it to me over the phone,” he needed at least that.

It was the other man’s turn to roll his eyes, “James.”

“Is that a nickname?”

“Middle. I don’t need to know yours,” James sighed, “And don’t worry, “I always keep my word.” 

“I’m sure you do, James.” 

“And as long as this keeps coming,” he gestured to the stack in the envelope,“ I’ll tell ya all you need to know. Hell, I’ll even do a dance for a little extra.”

He wanted to slap the freckles off his face. This naive idiot was going to get himself and potentially his beloved killed.

“Look,” he groaned, forcing himself to lean over with gritted teeth, “I need you to understand how serious this is. Gomez Addams is a very dangerous man with dangerous friends. If he’s even the slightest bit suspicious, he will kill you,“ he made sure to emphasize that part so James would understand, “And then I’ll have no one on the inside”

James reared back, a flash of fear flickering in his blue eyes before being replaced by something else,” This will only work if the two of us figure this out together,” he finally said.

He raised his brow at that, delighted at the quick change of tone. He crushed the cigarette under his boot and nodded, “Yes,” reaching under the table, he produced a tiny bag,” Here are three burner phones. I’ve labelled them. One is for text, the other is for phone calls, and only call me on the last one if you think Addams suspects.

James nodded grimly before taking them, “Okay, I see your point. I don’t want any of this to fall back on me…”

“It shouldn’t. Not if you watch your back.” he warned, “Don’t trust those Addams’. They’re savages. Every one of them.”

“I know. I’ve heard the stories downtown.”

“Good.”

To his surprise, rather than getting up and leaving, James leaned over and took his hand in a firm handshake, “I don’t really know or wanna know what the hell is this beef between you, Addams, and his wife. All I wanna do is catch an easy cheque. I’m no coward but I didn’t sign up to be no Rambo.”

“I understand. But-”

“I don’t have a history with Addams either so you don’t gotta worry about a snitch. But I wanna make things clear, the second I see things moving funny, I might have to pull the plug. I don’t wanna go to jail.

He simply nodded. He could respect that reasoning. He shook back the man’s hand then watched as he walked back to his car.

* * *

The drive home was mercifully silent, yet Gomez could feel the tension thick in the air. Mama hadn’t said a word to him since they got in the car, clearly content at cooing at her sleeping grandchild. Yet he still caught her staring at him periodically through the mirror. At times she would open her mouth as if to say something before just as quickly close it. 

It made him wrought with anxiety, gripping the steering wheel, and resisting the urge to turn to Mama and ask her to just spit it out already. But he kept his composure, willing himself to drive home as quickly as possible without disturbing Pugsley.

And when they turned the final corner and Gate came into view, Gomez had to wind down the glass to let the air cool him down. 

In the driveway sat three foreign cars, and in his eyes, they were the harbinger of doom.

“You’re home, little one,” Mama whispered from the back seat.

Just as the car stopped outside the house and she reached for the handle, he felt like it was beyond time, “Mama,” he said.

Craning his head around, he regarded his mother for the first time in hours, “I will need your help with Pugsley.”

A look of offense flashed across her face before she bundled up Pugsley tighter in her arm and exited the car with a slam. Gomez, surprised at the shift, gathered his things and walked after her, catching her at the door.

“Mama?”

She turned around and shot him a look before beckoning him down to her level and whispered, “No matter what, even if you chained me to the basement, I’m going to be there for Pugsley.” 

He smiled genuinely at that, “Thanks, Mama.”

“Anytime, kiddo.” she mocked, exposing her yellowing teeth to him.

“Oh, and by the way,” she said as he opened the door for them,” Your contacts are in the second-floor lounge, I had Thing entertain them while I was out.”

“Yes, I know. Where are you taking him?” he asked, motioning towards the baby.

“To my room, where else?” 

Gomez nodded stiffly, crouching down to kiss his son on the head before pulling his mother into a hug. Mama stroked his hair and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He was grateful she didn’t say anything more. He broke away and she looked at him for a moment, before taking the bag of formula and disappearing up the stairs.

And just like that, he found himself alone for the first time in hours. It was unusually silent in the lobby, except for murmurs coming from the distance. He began to follow the noise to the lounge when suddenly he felt moisture on his face and his throat became so tight he began coughing violently. Gomez held his throat and ran blindly, finding himself in his train room. With a slam of the door, he took in a deep breath and let out a strangled sob.

He was finally free from the sympathetic eyes of his family. And the hospital staff. And his Tish. And even his newborn son.

He had a few short moments to shed the veil of strength and security and think of what the hell he was going to do next. He spent the next five minutes crying his eyes out like a child over his abandoned trains. And when he was done, he sat back on his workbench and lit a cigar. 

After a few moments, he took to the mirror and fixed his disheveled appearance. He looked at himself and made a silent vow to never waste this much time again. His daughter needed him.

He discarded his cigar and lit another one, walking back upstairs to meet his new investigation team.


End file.
